Assassing's Creed 3: National Teasure
by BerrumBros
Summary: To unravel the plot of the Templars, Desmond discovers that he needs to steal the declaration of independence, but to his surprise, he finds its already been stolen! Meanwhile, Nic Cage discovers an even greater national treasure, buried by his ancestors during the jazz age. If only he could travel back in time...!
1. Chapter 1: It's time, to travel in time!

Chapter One: It is time, to travel in time!

Desomond Miles was tired. He was afraid. But it was time.

For months he had lain awake, weeping softly late unto the night. The blonde girl was dead, and he killed her, with his own ghost-possessed hands. He was afraid: the Animus had made him to do that, what else could it's velvety padded folds force him to do?

He looked down at the cyber chair. The padding was red, the same color her blood was: red.

But it was time. He sat down. It was comfy.

Too comfy!

But it was time.


	2. Chapter 2: nicholas engage

assassins treasure 3 chpt 2 - nicholas engage

Trinity retorted, "Remember Desmondo, we're looking for clues to help us unlock the declaration of independance. Not that phoney, american document bullshit."

Morpheouse piped in, "Tha's riiigh desmon, we mus learn dos dance moves to save da worl!"

The smitten man of britain added, "Yes, yes, on with it now, we haven't got all day desmond"

With a click of his heels and a turn of a dial, he was off. Desmonde hopped that setting the anumus to autopilot would take him where he wants to go. And yet, he had unease, feelings and such.

WHOOOOSH

CLICK CLICK CLICK CLIK CLIK DING DING CLIDK POP

He opened his eyes to a neat, organized room he found all too familiar. So familiar, he also knew that it must be his college drom room. IT WAS? BUT WHY? why take me here, he thought out loud. Kenneth the biritish guy says to asnwer, "Dessy, whatever it is the animus took you here for, you need to do something DIFFERNT from what you did in your past, or else we won't find any new clues. Try something NEW."

It seemed fair enough, if not sounding a bit smitten. But just then, as it so happened, his cell phone blared the REO Speedwagon classic 'cant fight this feeling', the song that had since haunted him. The song he killed the blonde girl to, with his own gost-possesed hands. He answered it.

"HEY DESSY-O" shouted a frat-bro into his ear, "what is HANGIN"

"Uh, hi. Hey." squeaked the assassin, his college sophomore voice still finding its way in the world. "what's up?"

"YO MAN we're watching this radical movie about the declaration of impedance or somethign man, you gotta flow with us! Bring some munchies man, later bro."

DEsmond thought aloud once again, voicing his worries of the event outlined before him. It was the outline of trouble. he was, after all, straight edge 4 lyfe.

Britty McBrit sounds in over the intercom - "Guy, i know this isn't your jam but you're gonna have to swing with me here. This film, National Treasure, has ancient precursors dating beyond the prehistoric ages."

So he sat down on the couch, neverously opening the bag of doritos he brough along, his collegues nodding in deep approval. He hadn't earned the nickname Dessy Doritos for nothing. He knew that as an assassin he mustn't stand out, even with faced with the fear of smoking the dreaded wacky tobacky. He ripped the bongo, as a tear slowly crept from his eye corner. His parents would be dissapoint.

SUDDENLY he realized that he had done the right thing, as his eagle vision was suddenly activated. He could see more than met the eye of a non-assassin, and even more. As the dvd reel of natural treasure played before his eyes, his eyes saw it all. nicholas cage. the delarcation of independce. all the lives stealing it would save outside the animust. he foudn what he had come here for.

With a jolt and a loud rapping, tapping at the door he sprung out of animus land and into the real world. He looked around, noticing that morpheos and trinidad were nowhere to be seen. "Hey where did they go?"

The brit of great wit answered, "They're not coming back, desmond. The templars got them. Their quest to make nachoes out of doritios has led to their demise."

A single tear dropped along each of their faces, and then it was back to business.

"We must get nucholas cage into the animus, whether he likes it or not!"


	3. Chapter 3: my own prison

Chapter 3 – My Own Prison

"A _creed_ is a statement of the shared beliefs of a religious community. Creeds are not intended to be comprehensive, but to be a summary of core beliefs. The term "creed" can also refer to a person's political or social beliefs, or is sometimes used to mean religious affiliation. _For the American rock band, see __Creed (band)__._" - Wikipedia

Desmond stepped out of the animus and back into reality. The colors were different somehow, as if the room's colors had suddenly—changed. Somehow. Suddenly he felt his left leg go numb and he fell to the floor. He reached for his thigh to see if he could sense any sensation. He couldn't. The numbness was just too much, too much for him to feel any sensation at all. He cursed, vigorously. He was his father's son, and at that moment, he knew it.

He stared up at the ceiling, clutching his thigh even tighter still, hoping to squeeze any sensation out of it. He couldn't. He looked down and saw he was drawing blood. But he kept his grib tight—tight as the moonlight's grip on the moist morning dew. Assasins don't give up.

He looked up at the ceiling again. The colors were different. And swirling. And blue. And purple. And shades of onyx. It was then, and only then, that he reaized. "I took the drugs," he shouted to himself. And this is what I get. The Templars would surely get him if he continued to make mistakes like this. But then he remembered what his father always told him, "Neither an assassin nor a lender be. But to thine own creed be true." And this was it. This was the moment when the creed, above all else, stood immortal. My own prison. And I could escape, if I held my arms wide open and summoned my mind to a state of human clay. His mind felt like clay at that very moment. Dank, tired, gray. But also pliable, mouldable, flexible. His mind, at that moment, was a paradox. The colors were still different. Somehow.

He closed his eyes and dreamed of home. The warm summers, the cool winters. The mild autumns, and the milder springs. Ah, autumn. With the leaves, on the ground, he was surely home. The room was still spinning. And the colors, different. Springtime, with the leaves their normal color and perky on the tree. Springtime back home was…well, he coulnd't put words to it. Rebirth. That's what springtime was. Rebirth.

And so out of that human clay he was rebourne, a stronger assassin than ever before. The colors were different, again different. Different from the different of before. They were the same. They same as they should be. The colors were the colors they were meant to be. The drugs had wourne off.

"I have to find Nic Cage, before he finds me."

He stood up.

The Declaration of Independence. He couldn't even begin to know where to look. If only he could remember the movie. Steps, he thought to himself. Steps. There was a building, and there was steps. White, he thought again. There was white. There was, and at that moment his mind trailed off. "Dammit, you stupid Animus," he exclaimed to himself, "why do you leave me with a foggy head?!" His head was like an enchanted forest mist, filled with answers but only if you got on your knees and really looked. The movie, the steps, the white. The answer was there, he just had to get on his knees and look.

And suddenly it came to him. Nic Cage. Sean Bean. The attractive quirky assistant was programming skills. The blonde. It was all coming together. It wasn't a movie, he thought to himself, it was actually happening. The ancient order of the Templar had a treasure, and Nic Cage was trying to find it. With my Declaration.

And that was when Desmond made a declaration of his own.


	4. Chaoter 4: The Method Actor

**Chaoter 4: The Method Actor**

Nic Cage woke with a start. There was a rustling of the leaves outside his bedroom window. They rustled and cracked, like if blankets were brittle and tiny and smaller. And there were a lot of them on the ground outside the window.

Being stepped on.

Cage was ready. He jumped up and punched through the glass window, and as shards of the semisolid liquid erupted from the punch-hole like a sharp metal chrysanthemum, he felt the bone of his knuckle break the ninja's jaw.

He didnt even bother to check the body because he knew that one hit from Nic Cage meant you were out cold. He had been in the wicker man. He had survived the bees.

Nic turned cooly to face the door as Sean Bean burst into the room.

"Nic, are you okay?" Mr. Bean was panicked, afraid. "I was asleep in my bedroom next door when I heard the glass!"

"Quiet, my young ward!" whispered Nic. But as soon as he had shsuehd mr bean, a second ninja, that had been disguised as an ornate chandelier, dropped from the ceiling, and pressed a knife to Boromir's nech. The fake glass and lightbulbs glued to his kimono rustled like tiny brittle blankets.

"Do what I say, or the boy dies!" hissed the ninja. Nic Cage took a calm breath, before he punched him in the face anyway, and he crumpled to the floor.

"No one threatens my boy companion, and no one tells me what to do! I'm old enough to have my own phone, dad!" Cage was shouting, even though the ninja was clearly dead or asleep.. perchance to dream.

"You have much to teach me." said Mr Bean. "How did you stop them?"

"Remember when I was in cinderella man?"

"No."

"Exactyl... I was so good at playing that boxer who looked like Russlwe Crowe, that people thought I was just Russel crowe playing a boxer, which is why I've never won an oscar. I trained for months.. years in the himalayas under the league of shadows to learn to box for that role. You see, to act is to become the character. To be someone on screen, you must be him not on screen. Like when I was in ghost rider and I lit my hair on fire"

Cages had turned and was staring through the window-crater, calmly, dramatically. The wind ruffled his fine angel hair. Bean's soul patch was also rufling. The shadows of the hollywood hills were blue in the moonlight, and scattered windows in far off buildings glowed as business executives downed their sorrows in piles of coke and prostitutes. Just piles of women, like sexy lady jenga. It truly was a city that never slept.

"But why ninjas' why now?"

"Because they want us to shut down the orphanage and build a glue factory."

"But why?"

"Because, as the recession worsens, people will stop consuming, they will become more thrifty, and will repair things instead of buying new ones."

"...they'll need glue!" Beans shouted.

"You catch on quickly." Cage said, nodding sagely.

"But how will we raise enough money to save the orphans?" Bean inquisited

"Simple, my good chum. Tonight we will steal the declaration of independance."

"But Washington is on the other side of the country from here, we could never get there in time"

Cage laughed. "Don't you remember?"

"I hijacked a jet in Con Air"


	5. Chapter 5: Cage the Elephant in the Room

Nic Cage has stolen a lot of things in his career: planes, cars, even a baby. And now he was going to steal the Declaration of Independence, As the y stodd in the bunker, Bean wqas astonished at his collection. "It's astonishing, to say the lease" said Beam. Cage had never shown the cars - not to mention the plane - to anyone other than his bitch ex wife Patricia. He wasn't sure if he could quite trust Beam with his book of secrets, but he can't worry about that at a time like this. The orphans needed them.

They hopped in the plane from Con Air. "Can you take me higher!" sang Bean, excitedly. At that moment Cage had a bad feeling. He was just recovering from a stapp infection, but that's not what it was. He had a bad feeling that something was about to happen. If only there was a word to describe it.

"So why are we stealing the Declaration? Are we selling it on the black market or something?"

"No, it's not the Emancipation Proclamation. There is a map on the Declaration which will lead us to a buried treasure."

"Buried treasure? Like pirates..."

"Sort of," Cage said, giddily. He had always considered himself a patriot of sorts, but a patriot and a pirate? Has there ever been such a character?

"Well how much booty does thar be?" Beam questioned, trying to be pirately.

"More booty than my bitch ex Patricia, I'll tell you that much" Cage said matteroffactly, more concerned with flying the plane than getting into character.

Beam knew Cage was bitter about the divorce, but he also knew how much he loved having sex with her. In fact he used to tell Beam about their role playing, often"burying" what he called "the treasure" into her "booty." He knew this meant there was an astonishing amount of treasure.

At that point, Cage noticed a change in BEam's eyes. He had seen this change before. THat time he changed his mind at Chili's. Nic had asked his friend to Chili's to go in on their 2 for $20 deal. Beam agreed to go, but after seeing the selections on the 2 for $20, changed his mind and wanted to get something else on the menu instead. IT was a minor betrayal, but a betrayal nonetheless. He had been quite attentive to detail since his work on Matchstick Men. It was betrayal he saw in his eyes, there was no doubt.

"I'm worried abotu what a taste of the treasure will do to him" Cage thought, this time not referring to his dick. He was concerned that Bean would take the treasure for himself, forsaking the poor ophans.

It was an awkward flight. They were both onto each other. Cage was onto Beam's nefarious plan. Beam was onto Cage onto his nefarious plan. If only there were a word or phrase to describe this obvious, unspoken truth. But it remained an unspoken truth as the two sat silent.

"Well HOORAH for the sounds of fucking silence!" exclaimed Beam, quoting Cage's character in the movie from which they now sit on the plane from.

"Heh, yeah..." Cage usually loved fanfare, but this time it just felt like a miserable attempt to break the silence. It was just that, that is to say, a miserable attempt to break the silence.

The plane landed in DC.

"To the white house!" said Cage, attempting to throw Beam off the trail.

"Lolz" said Beam.

It did not work. He was a fast learner indeed.

And thusly they ventured out of the plane together, once friends, now rivals.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Nine lives**

Sean Bean jogged one step behind Nic Cage as they raced from the jet. There was something he wasn't telling his so-called friend, so-called enemy. So far, everything was going according to plan. Just as Sean expected.

He had endless lives.

He didn't remember how it started exactly, whether it had been when he was shot with ar eal bullet on the set of Sharpe's Rifles or when he was actually stabbed in that one movie when ehw as young. Either way, he should have died, and he didn't. And then he just kept on almostdying, but not actually dying, when he should have. He was immortal. He was invicible.

Nic Cage, poor ignorant Nic, had no idea. Nic's attempt at a combover flopped against his head as they ran across the White House grounds. He was going to be a bit hard to betray, actually. Still bitter about his divorce and in denial—

Before Sean could finish his thought, he was jerked back to reality like a yo-yo on an upward swing. Something wasn't right here. "Nic."

Nic Cage didn't turn around. "What?" he said. "This better be important to be interrupting my determined jogging."

"I don't think the Declaration of Independence is in the White House." Honestly, where would Nic Cage be without the brains of this operation?

"But—"

"Just trust me on this. We filmed an episode of Sharpe's in the US once."

Nic did stop his determined jogging, clutching a stitch in his side. Too out of breath to argue, he waved Sean ahead. "Take—me—there."

Moved by his friend's trust, Sean started jogging in the lead. He really was going to miss this. Why did they always have to go from so-called firneds to so-called enemies? Couldn't they just—

Another interrupting. This time Nic Cage tripped and had to slow down the pace a bit. Typical.

Soon enough they were at the Smithsonian. They weaved through the crowds outside, cutting people in line, even pregnant ladies. Nothing was going to stop them from stealing the Declaration.

As they ran through security, the alarms on the metal detectors buzzed.

"Not even that will stop us!" shouted Sean over his shoulder. Nic got the idea and managed to keep up with his sprint as security guards descended upon them, but too slowly. Soon they were through the packed museum and unable to be chased.

"Why did the alarms go off?" Nic asked. He thought he was pretending to be innocent, but Sean knew him better.

"I know you brought a gun," he said. "I know you don't trust me." He managed to keep up his stride despite the intense conversation. He shoved some old women aside as they neared the Declaration. What he didn't tell Nic was that he was packing a piece, too.

Nic opened his mouth to respond, but there was no time. Sean collapsed on the glass case of the Declaration, bashing it open with his bare hands. They were bloody by the time the document was reachable. "No Sean, no!" but it was too late.

Nic took up the Delcaration, watching his friend sink to his knees. "Why did you do that?" Nic asked.

"It was the only way," said Sean, his bloody hands in his lap. "Bullet proof glass."

Unable to follow this logic, Nic still realized that he had to get out now if he was going to get out at all. "I'll distract them," Sean said, waving his friend away.

"But… you could die."

Sean almost smiled, but he managed to stop himself in time. "At least I'll know you made it out with the Declaration. And I'll know you're taking it back to our house. To keep it safe. I know you'll go there."

Nic nodded. Yes, this did seem logical. He saw the need for this sacrifice. He looked at his so-called friend, so-called enemy. "Goodbye Sean."

He raced away, too quickly to notice Sean's eyes glinting as his hands started to heal.

And over in the corner, helping up some old ladies who fell but listening to the conversation with his intense assassin's ears, was Desmond Miles. So this is who he would beat to get the Declaration for himself.


	7. Chapter 7 - Nicki Sabotaj

After charging the elderly ladies the usual servicecharge for helping them in their state of peril, Desmond sleekily yet stealthily sleuthed his way towards Cage's center of salutation – the place he called home. A long time devout Nicky-C fan, he has done this before. He knwe what to do. It was time.

He hopped on the subway, set on transporting to what he liked to call the NIcky-C district. Normally he would feign that his favorite sandwich shop, Blimpies, was there, which is why he would go there. But everyone that knew this idiocratic assassin wasn't no sandwich ho. He went there for for the bread and butter, which was clearly yet unmistakably Nicolas Kim Capicola. Otherwise known as the cage-man.

Surprisingly to the passengers, but somewhat less surprisingly to Desmond, the train screeched to a sudden halt. Most of the lights went out, leaving only enough to film a really cool looking fight scene in a film. But this was no film, this was real life. As real as Shaquille. O'niel, the b-baller. Not the scholar.

Along with that screechy screech came the screech of ther intercom as it becan to blare Beez in the Trap by Nicki Minaj, featuring 2 Chainz. Dessy Doritos was afraid this might happen, as it was only a matter of time before the 2 Chainz Gang interfered with his philisophically ambiguous plans. They were ripe to reap Nicki sabotage.

The lights flickered once, twice, thrice, then six mor etimes. He looked down to see his arm bleeding, velvety red like the coats of the red coats. He wasn't ready for this – it was almost as mezmerizing as the sight of his own red blood. It, being the whole experience of the subway and the hippity hoppity music playing over the subway speakers. Suddenly he was surrounded by men wearing svelt yet blingy bee costumes. He was a dead man, he knew it. No assassin was prepared for this. So far as he had previously knwon...

Suddenly, yet more suddenly than any sudden moment he had experienced thus far, he heard a scream. This scream was so sudden, that he priorly mistook it for his own. Yet it wasn't! It was a bee scream, as Nicholas Cage's burly boot crushed – no, squashed – the spine of one of the honey laden hooligans. And then another. And another. And before he knew it, he was staring in awe at Nick's brilliant physique, calmly standing over the men that may well have made him meet his doom.

"I smelled trouble" he fumed, his nasally voice almost echoing in the intimately sized subway car. "THese sick sons of bitches can buzz off." He triumphed.

As he started to walk away, Desmond stammered, "w-w-w-w-w-w-w-whait, wait, i.."

Listening to him find his bearings was unbearable, but Nicholas paused to hear him out.

"Is there.. Any way I can repay you? You saved me. These buzz-hards were after me, and you put a stop to it. You wreaked havok on these hive dwellers. YOur'e my.."

He was about to say hero, but the calamitous Cage spoke before he could - "Actually, yes, I think you can help me." It was spoken presumptiously, but Desmond wasall ears. "I've got this map, and I cant figure out wheat it's for. I've never bene able to read subway maps either, and since you seem to be managing yourself quite nicely, I'd even say brilliantly," he paused, admiring Dessy's own physique, as he had previously admired his own, his, "I just can't put it together, I could use some help, if you're inclined."

He knew this was his chance. He could finally team up with his long time admiree, and put and end to the templar's evilplots once and for allsies. He took the map in his hands ,making a point not to noticethey were on hte back of the Declaration of Independence. His eyes became wide, surprised, suddenly, by what his eyes lay eyes upon. "This.. This isn't what I expected.. I mean, I wasn't expecting anything, because I hadn't made any preconceptions of what I woudl find on the back of the declaration of, uh, i mean" He knew he was filed, but he would be wrong. Nicholas, his mind always on the task at hand, was too focused on liberty and freedom to take notice. "It looks like a map that leads to, another map. A map for a map. A map map, if you will" He said, still bewildered by what he saw. "But I can't tell what is mapped out on the map. If I had to guess, I'd say it's either an orphanage or a glue factory.."

Theeir eyes locked on, and to one of them everything became very clear. The other was stil pretty confused, but one thing WAS clear – they were both ready to form an action faction.

"Your map skills.. I'll need them. WE'LL need them. This COUNTRY will need them. We don't have much time – let's jam."


	8. Chapter : Deus Is Machina

His frenemy long gone with the delcaration of independance, Bean began to walk out of the white house, or whereve the declaration had been stored. As he calmyly strode passed the Lincoln memorial, frantic men in black chased after him, firing burst rounds from AK's into his back. He shrugged them off. One MIB fired a rocket launcher. Bean didnt even turn to look as he grabbed the rocket with an oustrecthed hand, and crushed it with a mighte grip. The men in black were impressed as balls.

Bean turned, faced his assailants. He slowly... pensively raised a pear of badass sunglasses to his eyes. They glimmered like anime.

And then he punched the earth so hard that he propelled his body all the way to the moon.

* * *

Benjamin "the jammin' man" Franklin "funklin" awoke with a start. Something really badass was echoing through time and space, causing some unpleasant heart palpitations in our nations founder. Either that or the years of alcoholism. Or maybe he had the scurvy.  
_Can you get scurvy from sleeping with piles of french women? _thought the heavily-jowled historical figure.

"What's the matter, baby?" said the jenga pile of prostitutes that Funklin had fallen asleep on.

"Nothing.." responded the tru funk master of the planet. "I just need to get some air... and buy some limes."

the man who wrote the declaration of independance stepped outside. The moon was bright and full. _It is a good night for werewolves_ he thought as he began to climb to the roof of his mansion. _Mayhaps a full-moon barry-sax jazz solo will calm my nerves. _

Once atop the roof, he whipped out his saxiphone and layed out some hauntingly jazzy beats, silhoutted in the large ominous moon.

But just as the inventor of electricity had begun his sick rooftop jam session, his latent psychic powers began to manifest.

"Someone is going to steal the declaration of independence. I will need to guide them."

He toiled for years. He built a machine that could challenge a god. A giant metal man. Powered by a shard of the liberty bell and armed with bazooka shoulderpads, and a giant barry saxiphone sound cannon capable of leveling an entire city, he cristend the death machine "Mega Zeit Geglor: the Holy Machine"

"God is ded" he said in awe, quoteing the famous philosipher, aristotle. "So I built a robot one"

And so he buried this metal god, deep inside a golden temple deep in the earth. And he hid the door, and marked the entrance on a map.. a map that would lead to the salvation of all mankind... scribbled on the back of the declaration of independance!

* * *

Meanwhile, hundreds of years later at a moon base with a big skull shaped door, a sharp noise rang out.

"Someone ist yet knocking, m'lord." said a jester or servant to the castle's mysterious master.

"I know" answered a voice as deep and gravelly as as a grand canyon full of gravel.

"The deathless one has come."


	9. Chapter 9: The Second Face

Chapter 9 – The second face

_Janus, that is what they used to call me._

_One face you show to the world, and another you keep hidden. How many lives would it take to finally understand the nature of my second face? My face-ade only appreas in the daylight—and the other only appears when shadow falls. _

Beans was pondering the nature of faces when his feet slammed on the moon's surface, sending a moonquake vibrating straight to the core of the planet. He took off his badass glasses slowly and turned his head sharply left, letting his hair blow in the moon-breeze and hoping that someone was filming him—he knew he must look like such an actor/model with that 10/10 landing and subsequent sunglasses removal. Like he needed a spacesuit.

Beans turned his gaze toward the sun—no, not _that _sun. The _other _sun. The one that the humans hadn't discovered yet. Beans laughed to himself. Oh, human ignorance. He vowed to laugh about this again later, when he had more free time.

See, there was a second sun behind the moon, with an identical orbit to the moon, so nobody on earth can see it because the moon is always blocking it. This sun was a much smaller sun than _that _sun, but therein lies the exciting part. Since this sun's energy was identical to the energy of the sun, but in a much more compact space, it had a higher energy-density ratio, which means it is like a superior energy source. If only one could have the power to extract it… ?

Beans looked up from his physics textbook and nodded assuredly. This made complete sense and followed all of the limit theorems of Einstiems special relativistic laws of quantum space synamics. Good thing he knew all about space.

Beans suddenly realized that he couldn't breathe. You see, he is still built like a human, and dies like a human. Beans died of space-lung right then and there and fell to the ground.

His eyes reopened, but he couldn't move. He died again.

Beans awaked for a moment, and then died again. And again. And again.

He had a split second to think each time he came back to life.

_What is happening to me?_

_I can't survive long enough on this planet to get up._

He had to think physics thoughts in the short bursts of his lives.

_Maybe I could…_(death)…_use my powerful lungs…_(death)…_breathe a breath_…(death)…_slingshot that breath around the moon, and into the photon field around the mini-sun_…(death)…_which any space-expert knowns turns carbon dioxcide into oxygen (o2)_…(death)…_and then breath this oxygen_…(death)…_and reapeat._

Beans had decided. And he used one life to fill is breath, and another to shoot his breath out into the stars. His breath was so powerful that when it slingshotted around as oxygen, it created an entire atmosphere around the moon. Beans got to his feet and looked toward the clouds.

There were now clouds on the moon, because it had an atmosphere. And with clouds come water and life. But that would all come later. Beans had work to do.

He looked upon his work and smiled.

_I AM a god_, thought Beans.

_So hurry up with my damn croissants._

He shot into space. Beans OUT.


	10. Chapter 10: Put Your Hands on the Wheel

After fighting through a horde of bee assasins, Nick and Desomnd arrive at the warehouse the Animus was stored in.

"That was a _bee-_autiful escape" sayd Desmond, laughing. "Those guys really _sting-_k, why don't they just _buzz_ off!"

Nick fractured Desmond's nose with a swift, decisive punch to the face.

"Take that, fuckhead!" laughed Cage. "you think one subway battle and I'll let you steal the declaration of idenpendtce! Only I steal the declaration of indepenance! I do what I want, when I want, how I want! WHY DONT YOU LOVE ME DAD?"

"I thought we were friend," squeaked Desmond as he crumpled to the floor and fell into a deep sleep. He began to dream of horses. Pretty, pretty horses in better times, long ago. He was tired of having people break his face. He was tired. In his dream he cried and rode horses while pretty girls refused to kiss him and made fun of his bad hair.

Nick leaned over and kissed Desmonded tenderly on the head, for reasons of honor. He looked kinda cute, crying and unconscious and bleeding all over.

"Always follow the Samurai code" Nick whispered to himself, as he thought of Mr. Miyagi. This is what he wouldve wanted. Nick found that, in anticipation of the kiss he had made his lips overly moist, and wiped them off with his fist.

He turned and saw the animus. The red, velvety folds of the time-travel-chair-machine-capsule beckoned to him, like a siren, except instead of a mermaid it was a chair, and Nick Cage was no sailor. He sad town and the machine whirred to life.

It was time, to travel in time!

* * *

Cage woke up in a field. A man was facing him. The man also had a face facing him. Body language indicated that his attention was fixed on Nick.

"Hey Nick, you okay?"

"You know my name?" puzzled Nick.

"Of course I do! I know many thing!" the man wore a blue pinstripe suit, and had thick luscious blonde hair cropped tightly, as was the style of the time. The Beatles had not yet crossed the pond and turned the world of men's hairstyles upside down. It was a simpler time.

"What year is it?"asked Nick.

"Why, it's one year before the great depression, my good man." said the eloquent rich man in the suit "So let us drink and be merry and live in excess, unaware that our days of frivolity are numbered. These truly are the halcyon days of the american dream. Let us dance in the gaiety of the times and drink the fines of wines as we bask under the golden sun in these most wondrous cities of men."

Nick had to strongly resist the urge to break this man's nose. He missed Beans.

"Okay, whatever, I dont care. Im just here to steal the declaration of independence."

"Jolly good, old chap. This promises to be a rousing bout of fun, full of piss and vinegar! We shall play as theives most craven and foul and delight in the pilfering of artefacts most priceless-"

Nick Cage broke the man's nose, but quickly realized that he didnt know how to get anywhere or where he was, so he just waited for his new frend to wake up from his dream of horses. the man goggily came to a start.

"where am I?" he asked as he waoke.

"hey, my name is nick. we are going to steal the declaration of independence. "

"Okay. My name is Jay, but you can call me.. the Great Gatsby!"

The owl eyed man gasped.


End file.
